The Summer Everything Changed
by children-of-the-marauders
Summary: After learning the truth about his family, Harry becomes determined to find out who he is and what his place in the wizarding world truly is.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Summer Everything Changed**_

_**Chapter 1**_

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><p>Hermione had never been a fan of flying on a broom. In addition to its allusions to the storybook witches of her childhood, it was just not practical. Who wanted to carry around a broom? It was difficult to transport anything while flying and you were exposed to all of the elements. Yes, Hermione had a several practical reasons for not wanting to fly a broom. But somewhere, buried so deeply that even she had a hard time remembering, was the true reason she was not a fan of brooms.<p>

Hermione liked control. Plans were comforting, analyzing all possible situations and their outcomes before jumping headfirst into a situation (unlike _some_ wizards she knew). But you couldn't learn how to fly from reading a book, it required letting intuition take over and learning as you went – or so she had been told. No, flying was just something Hermione was fine with not mastering. Especially not when there were so many _faster _and more _practical_ methods of transport.

So when Hermione started dreaming about soaring through the night sky with Hogwarts Castle well below her, she was surprised to find that rather than being frightened, it was exhilarating. This was the third night in a row she had this dream. It wasn't too difficult to figure out where the images had come from, as she actually _had_ flown through the sky above Hogwarts at night – just not on a broom. But she always woke up slightly disoriented, expecting maroon curtains hanging from her bed posts. Instead, the soft sunlight entering the room lit up the wall-to-ceiling bookshelves overflowing with titles like "_The Algebra of Geometry" _and _"The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_". Hermione had returned home for the summer following the end of her third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it was the ending of that year that led to the dreams that had carried on all summer long. In a few short days, she would be returning to the place where she, Hermione Granger, had broken not only one, but two wizarding laws in order to rescue the escaped criminal Sirius Black. It was year that threw into sharp relief Hermione's unwavering faith in those with authority. She had learned that Sirius was indeed innocent of his supposed crimes, had never received anything resembling a trial, and instead was immediately sentenced to life in Azkaban. She had also learned that money and your family pedigree spoke volumes in the wizarding world. Slowly, her dreams of a world led by the logical and practicality of individuals who earned their positions based on merit were crumbling down around her.

The past year wasn't a complete disaster though by any means. That night, she had overcome her fear of getting into trouble to help her best friend rescue one of the last remaining links to his parents. Sirius Black, condemned for the murder of twelve muggles and the betrayal of Lily and James Potter, was not only innocent, he was Harry's godfather. And what an adventure that night was. Looking back, she still shivered when she remembered how close they were to losing it all. But they hadn't; Sirius and Buckbeak had escaped death, the true betrayer was revealed, and most importantly, Harry finally had someone to consider family.

Rolling over away from the sun, Hermione smiled as she settled back in to return to sleep. Yes, breaking a few rules had been completely worth it.

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><p>In Little Whinging, a less-peaceful, yet still typically, morning was taking place.<p>

"Oi! Boy! Get your lazy arse out of bed and down into the kitchen. If you aren't down here before Dudley, you are going to have to answer to me instead of your aunt this morning!"

Sighing, Harry shook off the last vestiges of sleep as he rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock resting beside his bed. '_7:45_,' he thought to himself. '_Well, at least that's better than yesterday…' _Harry's sleep schedule this summer was determined entirely by Dudley's. This summer, Aunt Petunia, in a fit of stubbornness, had enrolled Dudley in summer classes. Of course, it's not as if he _needed_ them, but as Uncle Vernon said, it was what people of their stature should do – prepare for the real world where slackers failed and good, productive people succeeded. No one deemed it pertinent that Dudley had just barely passed his studies this year, and advancement to the next level would be based on his success in these summer classes. So instead, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings saw "Dudders" off bright and early to his "enrichment classes", as Aunt Petunia called them.

This suited Harry just fine. By 8:30am, Uncle Vernon had left for work, and Aunt Petunia had left to drop Dudley off, and then run errands until it was time to pick him up. What on Earth she did to fill three hours was beyond him, but he would certainly not complain! Before she left, Aunt Petunia would leave a list of chores that "must be completed by our return, or else!" But chores were nothing new to Harry – he kept the garden and lawn in such great shape and Aunt Petunia's kitchen spotless, so it rarely took him more than an hour to complete the entire list. Once finished, he found himself actually allowing himself to relax.

"Did you hear me?" Uncle Vernon's voice bellowed up the stairs.

"Be right there, Uncle Vernon!" Running a hand through his permanently messy hair, Harry stood and grabbed the shirt closest to him. Making sure there was nothing "unnatural" about the shirt, he threw it on and headed out the door and down the stairs. '_Definitely do not want a repeat of last week._' The golden snitches flying across his shirt had not gone over well. Just thinking about it made his shins twinge remembering Uncle Vernon's foot introducing itself – repeatedly.

Entering the kitchen, Harry was greeted with a grunt of acknowledgement from Uncle Vernon (he was surprised he got that much), and a terse nod from Aunt Petunia. Not bothering to respond, he went straight to work frying up the usually kippers and eggs for Uncle Vernon and Dudley and slicing the fruit for Aunt Petunia. With the exception of the fruit, the food was gone moments after hitting the table. Dudley had sauntered in moments after Harry, demanding to hear the results from last evening's football match. As Uncle Vernon and Dudley debated who had truly deserved to win ("Those refs just really have it in for Manchester. I tell you, you just cannot trust anyone these days. They're all in somebody else's pocket!" insisted Uncle Vernon), Aunt Petunia toiled away at her fruit, occasionally adding a new chore or two to Harry's list while commenting that he really must be more careful while washing the dishes, it would not do to have anything left on them. Finally, all three had stood up from the table and were making their way to the door.

"Now nothing funny better happen while we're gone, boy. You make sure to get all of those chores done, or you won't be sitting for a week to make up for it." Nodding his head, Harry ignored Uncle Vernon's threats, as usual. As the door shut, Harry surveyed his work. The kitchen was spotless, all crumbs from under the table had been swept up, and the dishes put away. Grabbing the plate of food he had siphoned away, he headed back up to his room where he could eat in peace.

"Good morning, Hedwig! I brought you some food," he sang, walking into his room looking around for the beautiful white owl. He expected to see her on her perch, where he had left her, but was surprised to instead find her on his desk, locked in a staring contest with an owl as black as she was white. "Hello, there. Now who sent you…" Breaking eye contact, the coal-black owl turned toward Harry before puffing his chest out and sticking out his leg with the letter attached. Harry untied the letter before handing the owl one of his sausages. Hedwig, hooting in glee that she had won, flew to Harry's shoulder nuzzling his cheek before nipping his ear affectionately. His breakfast forgotten, Harry moved to his bed to read the letter. The handwriting looked familiar, but he couldn't think of anyone who would send him a letter this heavy. The greeting gave it all away. Finally, after over a month with no communication, Harry had a letter from his godfather. His recently discovered, escaped-from-wrongful-imprisonment, best friend to his parents, real-life godfather. Family – something Harry had been craving for as long as he could remember.

_Hey Prongslet!_

_ I hope this letter finds you well! It's been a while since we were last in touch, so I figured I should make up for it somehow. But before I forget, let me introduce my newest friend – Hensley. He's the big, proud owl who delivered this letter for me. He and Beaky have become quite taken with each other, so I have a feeling he will be sticking around for a while. And who knows, maybe he'll enjoy having a "lady friend" like Hedwig? ::wink wink::_

_ But on to more important business, there is a more important reason as to why this letter is thicker than usual. I really have been enjoying my summer of freedom. After leaving Hogwarts, Buckbeak and I took off to find warmer pastures, so to speak. Our travels found us first to some islands in Italy, then we made our way to Greece, and believe it or not we have returned to Britain. I promise you, I am completely hidden and safe. I met up with our dear friend Moony, who kindly made a trip to some muggle store called a suppermartet (or something like that, I was always rubbish at remembering everything Lily tried to teach us about the muggle world) and got bought me a hair-changing potion. I thought a simple glamour charm would be easier, but he insisted this would be more permanent. Either way, I'm now a blonde! Not white-blonde like that pompous arse Malfoy, but more like a summery version of my gorgeous self. _

_ But enough about me, how about you? Enjoying your holiday with the muggles? I'm sorry I missed your birthday! You'll know soon why I couldn't be in touch. _

_Love,_

_Padfoot_

_P.S. It's great to know that the Marauder's motto has been passed on to future generations_

Concerned, Harry set down the letter and turned to the black owl that seemed to be watching his every move. "So, Hensley, is it? I suppose you're waiting for my reply." The owl let out a soft hoot, but didn't move from his spot on the desk. Taking that as a yes, Harry turned back to the letter. _'Something's missing here. What isn't he saying?' _Then, as if a light had turned on, Harry realized that there truly was something that Sirius was leaving out. Reaching under his pillow, Harry grabbed his wand and touched it to the letter, muttering, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Immediately, the letters across the parchment began rearranging, forming a new message.

_Hey Pup, glad you figured it out._

_After coming back to Britain and meeting up with Moony, we started talking about your life thus far and piecing together things that both of us had been told by Lily and James. And to be honest, pup, I'm not liking what I'm seeing. We both think that something's up – Moony mentioned a conversation he had with you when seemed starved for any information about your parents. Stories, facts, anything. It stands out to us because you should have a whole stockpile of letters from them. We've both seen them, heck we were even there when they were writing some of them. Your parents knew it was a definite possibility that you might grow up without one (or both) of them, and they wanted to make sure you at least felt like you knew them. They told us that these letters, along with several other personal items, were to be given to you immediately following the execution of their will. You do have these things, right?_

_ There are a couple more inconsistencies we're concerned about, but it would be better if we talked about them in person rather than through letters. Can you sneak away from the muggles without being missed? Or should we come to you? Let us know!_

_ And again, sorry about missing your birthday, but I couldn't take the risk of letting certain individuals know that I was back in the country. We aren't sure how deep this goes – better to be safe than sorry!_

_ I'm here with Moony now – we both miss you, and hope you aren't too miserable. Looking forward to seeing you. Also, just in case, return this to the original message as soon as you're done reading it. We can't be too careful. _

_Love,_

_Padfoot and Moony_

"Well that didn't clear up much," muttered Harry before quickly following directions and reverting the message back to its original form. _'What are these letters I'm supposed to have? Did they get destroyed that night along with the house?'_ Not much had ever been shared with Harry about the details of that night. Hagrid had told him little, saying the house had been in ruins when he had come to take Harry away. But now that he thought about it, no one ever mentioned the house in Godric's Hallow. Had everything really been destroyed, like Hagrid had said? Or had it fallen into disrepair after losing its residents? Lost in thought, Harry had no idea how much time had passed until he heard a car door slam shut immediately underneath his window. Standing up, he looked out to see Aunt Petunia and Dudley making their way to the front door. Looking at his calendar marking the days until his return to Hogwarts (only one short week left), Harry quickly grabbed the parchment marking his spot in _Quidditch through the Ages_ before scribbling a return message. Handing the message to Henley, he waited until he heard the front door open and close before instructing Henley to take his response straight to Sirius.

"Well Hedwig, luckily it's Monday. I only have to wait two days to see Sirius and Professor Lupin and hear what they have to say." Grabbing his book, and giving Hedwig the last of his leftover breakfast, Harry set off for an afternoon of evading his cousin, all the while trying not to think too much about the note Sirius had sent him.

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><p>Dinner that night had actually been enjoyable – on Harry's end. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had returned home, something had seemed off. Normally Aunt Petunia came in gushing with praise for her Diddykins until reaching the kitchen, when her beady eyes made sure that everything was exactly as she wanted. But this time, she didn't even comment on the "sub-par" cleaning capabilities Harry possessed. In fact, she ignored him completely. And while this normally wouldn't be any cause for concern, he had been so engrossed in his book that he hadn't had enough time to move from Uncle Vernon's favorite chair before Aunt Petunia had entered the door and walked right past the living room where he was seated. Not wishing to take any chances, Harry decided to go for a walk instead of waiting around for the eventual blow up. But it never happened. That is, until dinner.<p>

Uncle Vernon and Dudley sat down to their favorite meal of roast beef and potatoes – which took Harry almost two hours to prepare, including dessert – none the wiser to Aunt Petunia's strange behavior. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watched carefully as she would open her mouth to talk, only to close it, shaking her head. Finally, near the end of Dudley's third helping, she seemed to gather enough courage to actually say something.

"Vernon, there is something that we should discuss," she began. Without waiting for a response, she dove in head first. "Today, when I went to pick Dudley up from school, his professor was waiting outside with him, requesting that I bring this letter home and share it with you." For the first time, Harry noticed the letter clutched in her left hand. One could tell that it had been folded and unfolded several times already. "This letter," she said, holding it up, "is a request that both you and I meet with Dudley's professor and principal as soon as possible regarding his…lack of progress at school."

A shrug of his shoulders was the only indication that Uncle Vernon had heard a word she said. Dudley, on the other hand, had turned bright red and decided to mollify himself by taking a fourth helping of potatoes and gravy. Aunt Petunia looked between the two of them before straightening herself up and, seeming to come to terms with an inner battle, removed both Dudley and Uncle Vernon's plates from them, mid bite. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Petunia! What are you doing. It's probably nothing, I'm sure Dudley has just forgotten to turn in a few homework assignments or something of the sort. He's a young lad and it's nearing the end of summer. I still don't understand why he had to take these classes, anyway. It's probably all just a misunderstanding that you will get sorted out in no time." He reached for his plate, but Aunt Petunia just pulled it closer to her.

"Vernon, this is the last week of classes. This is not a simple matter of a few forgotten homework's. According to this letter, Dudley has not completed a _single_ assignment, and has failed the majority of exams. This is a meeting to determine whether or not Dudley will be remaining in the school in general, not merely whether he will be moving on to the next year or not."

Aunt Petunia turned her attention to Dudley, who had slowly slipped down into his chair during this explanation, almost as if he was trying to melt into the floor. "Dudley has continually lied to us this summer, and we have let him get away with it. Dudley, you are grounded until further notice. You will continue to go to these classes, but will return to your room immediately afterwards. No telly, no computer, and no video games. And there will be no arguing. Vernon, I have already called your secretary and had your Wednesday afternoon cleared. We will be meeting with the school at 2pm on Wednesday. And Dudley, you will be coming too."

Standing up, Aunt Petunia walked over to the kitchen sink carrying her, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon's plates and dropped them in, ignoring the clatter as they jostled each other. Without another word to anyone, she strode out of the kitchen, presumably headed upstairs. Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and Harry all remained frozen, no one sure that what had just happened was real. Not only had Aunt Petunia reprimanded both of them, she had taken away their still-full plates of food, grounded Dudley for the first time ever, and practically demanded that Uncle Vernon accompany her to this meeting.

Harry was the first to wake up. And before Dudley or Uncle Vernon decided to turn on him, he was out of the kitchen and upstairs. Grabbing some parchment and a quill, he scribbled a quick note to Sirius.

_Sirius-_

_ Come to the house on Wednesday at 2pm. The house will be empty. Meet me out back._

_Harry_

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><p><strong>I will be doing my best to update this story as frequently as possible, and I appreciate any and all feedback! The relationships will progress slowly at first, just as a warning.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

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><p>While Tuesday seemed to fly past, Wednesday crawled. Resisting the urge to look up at the mantle clock for the fifth time in as many minutes, Harry continued to carve out a figure-eight in the Dursley's living room rug. His long-forgotten <em>Hogwarts: A History<em> lay on the floor where it had slipped from the couch.

Aunt Petunia had hustled Dudley into the car over an hour ago, insisting that they arrive at Smeltings no later than 1:40pm. More than anything, Aunt Petunia _hated_ being late. At breakfast, she expressed this dislike to Uncle Vernon, stating that he would have to find his own dinner if he was but one minute late to this appointment. Although this newly motivated Aunt Petunia didn't directly affect Harry, it was definitely nice to see someone standing up to Uncle Vernon and Dudley for once. As soon as the front door had closed, Harry had taken up his vigil in the living room, anxious to see his godfather again.

Harry once again found himself looking at the clock. 1:55pm. '_He should be here any minute,' _Harry thought to himself. Striding across the room, Harry turned down the hallway and headed out to the backyard where he was hoping Sirius would be arriving shortly. _'Hopefully he remembers to show up in the backyard and not the front. That sure would give the neighbors something to talk about.'_ To preoccupy himself, Harry looked through the rosebushes with a well-trained eye. After all, it was he who had built up this garden and carefully taken care of it over the years.

"Hey there, pup! What, were you worried we wouldn't make it?" Sirius' voice came from behind Harry, who whirled around to find himself facing, not one, but two wizards. Standing next to Sirius was Remus Lupin, looking a bit more disheveled than the last time Harry had seen him, but thankfully not as skinny as he had been on the Hogwarts Express the year before. Hurrying over, Harry grabbed both into a hug.

"It's so great to see you! But let's get inside before any of the neighbors decide to nose their way into the backyard." Harry turned and led them both through the back door and into the house, directly into the living room he had been pacing in just a few minutes earlier. "So…not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but what could be so important that you decided to risk your safety, Sirius? And Professor Lupin, I'm surprised that you even let him!"

"Harry, you can call me Remus now. I am, after all, no longer your professor." Remus held up a hand, preventing Harry from interrupting him. "It doesn't matter how that came to be, it is what it is. But if you would like to continue calling me Professor Lupin, that is fine as well." Harry nodded, and then looked pointedly at Sirius who had been quietly observing the Dursley's sitting room.

Letting out a great sigh, Sirius seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. "There really isn't a proper introduction for this, so perhaps it's better if I just give it to you." Reaching into the inner pocket of his cloak, Sirius pulled out a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Harry. Across the front, in a beautiful script, was the single word _Harry_. Curious, Harry unfolded the parchment and began to read.

_To my darling son-_

_ Too many times have I written and re-written this letter – and yet each time I hope I have the chance to write another one. Our little family has been in hiding since shortly after you were born. Luckily, we've had such great friends to keep us in contact with the outside world. I wish that we had our family with us as well, but sadly both sets of your grandparents passed just before we went into hiding. I'm not sure if my sister will ever forgive me for not being there for her after our parent's death. I hope that, maybe one day, she and I will be able to work through our differences. But in the meantime, Sirius and Remus have made sure to visit us at least every other day. Peter used to come with them each time, but lately his visits have become more infrequent. _

_ My hope is to speak to you myself about all of this, to teach you about your family's history and about our lives together. But, as this to war continues, this hope fades. So in case I do not get the chance, this letter to you contains what I believe to be the most important aspects of your family's history, on both sides. _

_ My parents, Michael and Elizabeth (neé Codwell) Evans, met in between their second and third year of university – my father from Cambridge, my mother from King's – when they quite literally bumped into each other at Covent Garden. After a whirlwind summer, the two wrote frequently to each other throughout their third year, and by the following summer were engaged to be married. After finish uni, they married and settled in Surrey, in the childhood home that my sister Petunia and I would grow up in. My sister and I used to be extremely close, our parents used to say that we should have been twins. We were born two years apart, but shared everything. Everything, that is, until my 11__th__ birthday. Petunia and I were looking forward to both being at the same school again, but my Hogwarts letter obviously changed that. I was _so _excited to find out about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. After that letter, everything seemed to fall into place. What I was not prepared for though was the fallout between my sister and myself. Petunia was devastated that we would be going our own ways in the fall and she just never got over the fact that I could practice magic while she couldn't. After my first year, she listened to every story that I could possibly tell. Then one day, I caught her with my wand and my charms book attempting to cast the most basic of first year spells. When she couldn't, she burst into tears and fled my room. From that day forward, she distanced herself from me and we never were the friends we had been before. I have only met her husband once, at their wedding. And I know the only reason we were invited was because of our parents. I'm afraid that because our last true link is now gone, we will never recover the friendship we once had. Your grandparents died a month after your birth in a car accident involving a drunk driver. We had been talking about going into hiding since a few weeks before you were born, but I was hesitant to distance myself that much from my parents. I begged for them to come with us, but they refused to, saying it was almost choosing between my sister and I, especially as we both were expecting our firstborns. I have never met Dudley, your cousin, but my parents always said that he was the light of Petunia's life. I miss my parents each and every day, but I will forever be thankful that they had the chance to meet you, hold you, and play with you before they passed. They loved you very, very much. _

_ On your father's side, there is quite a bit more history to sort through. Edward and Margaret (neé Peverell) Potter met at Hogwarts, of course, where they graduated in 1911. Your grandfather was a Gryffindor, while your grandmother was a Ravenclaw (and one of the smartest women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing). Your grandmother was the last direct descendent of the Peverell family, whereas the Potter line goes back to the time of Merlin. Both are ancient wizarding families, entrenched with enough history for me to write an entire book! But that is what family libraries are for. They married shortly after Hogwarts and spent their early married life adjusting to the new expectations placed upon them after Edward's father's untimely death. Becoming the head of the Potter family meant learning to handle his post to the Wizengamot, managing the family affairs, and make his way through his Defense Against the Dark Arts mastery all while attempting to start a family. Meanwhile, your grandmother held the responsibilities of the Peverell family. For centuries, they had maintained the historical archives of Godric's Hollow, both on the wizarding side and the muggle side. Your grandmother is directly responsible for the beautiful library that was established there in the early 1950's. Now, as I am sure you already know, witches and wizards tend to have a much longer lifespan than muggles, so they were considerably older than my own parents. After years of building their lives together and ensuring that their familial responsibilities had met, they were thrilled to welcome your father into their lives in 1960. Finally, there was an heir to the most noble and ancient house of Potter, which had now been combined with the noble and ancient house of Peverell. Although the Peverell's were rich in history, the Potter's were exceptionally wealthy. Your grandparents doted on your father throughout his life and always made sure he could want for nothing. But although they easily could have done nothing for the rest of their lives and live comfortably, they both insisted on staying active within the community and showed their son that it was hard work and determination, not money, that provided for the luxuries of life. Sadly, shortly after your father and I were married, Edward and Margaret both contracted a particularly nasty bout of dragon pox. Your father sent for the best healers in Britain, but unfortunately no potions could spare them. They died within minutes of each other, at each other's side until the very end. They were buried within the family plot in Godric's Hollow, near the cottage your father and I had built after we married. They left behind Potter Manor, your father's childhood home, to us to move into after this war finally ends. They were deeply caring individuals who would have been proud to know their grandson. _

_ And then, of course, is the story of your father and me. Although I had met your father during our first year, we did not become friends until our final year at Hogwarts. To be honest, I thought he was a bit of braggart at first. He, along with Sirius, Remus, and Peter (although, it was mostly James and Sirius) bullied one of my oldest childhood friends throughout our early years at Hogwarts, merely because he was in a different house than ours. At the time, I thought it was immature and foolish. Eventually though, I got to see the true James Potter – the sweet, caring, and brave man that I feel in love with. He had asked me out each year since our third year, but I steadfastly refused until our seventh year. From that time forward, we were inseparable. Like both of your grandparents, we married right out of school. With the fear of war growing stronger, it seemed foolish to wait, and I am glad that we didn't. We held a small, but beautiful wedding on the grounds of Potter Manor that included our closest friends and family. Your father, along with Sirius, joined the auror corps immediately after graduating, as part of a special program designed to aid in the coming war. Remus was denied, sadly, because of his "furry little problem". Instead, he threw himself entirely into the Order of the Pheonix. Although all five of us were members, only he was able to completely devote himself to it. _

_I do not know where we would be today if it was not for the truly wonderful friends that we have. I think they love you and care about you as much as we do. Although it saddens me to think about not being there for you as you grow up, I know that if something were to happen to me or your father, they would be there to ensure your safety and wellbeing. Although I'm sure you already know, Sirius was thrilled to be named your godfather. He was practically James' brother while growing up, so it only seemed fitting. Your godmother is my dear friend Alice Longbottom. I wish you and Neville could spend more time together right now, but they are in hiding as well which makes that difficult. Alice was my dearest friend in Hogwarts. We had met on the train to Hogwarts, but bonded after we were both sorted into Gryffindor. We were both quite studious, although each of us had our strengths. I would help her in potions, while she was quite proficient in transfiguration. I will never forget one of the most beautiful transfiguration spells she taught me (an old family secret that had been passed down) – the ability to turn a flower into a fish. It quickly became my favorite. _

_Despite how many times I have sat down to write this letter, I still never know quite how to end it. It is my greatest wish to see you receive your own Hogwarts letter, to watch you fall in love, and to meet your children, my future grandchildren. But if that is not what is meant to be, then always know that your father and I love you with every ounce of our being._

_With love,_

_Lily_

As he reached the final words his mother had written to him, Harry noticed how shaky his hands were. At some point, Sirius had put his hand on one shoulder, while Remus stood next to him on his other side. Harry still wasn't sure when he had sat down, but was glad that he had. He wasn't sure his legs could have supported him.

"How…how did you get this? I thought everything from my parent's house was destroyed?" he asked. Remus and Sirius looked to each other, Remus nodding his head for Sirius to explain.

"Well, first of all, the house was not entirely destroyed. Your room, the nursery, took the greatest hit, but the structure itself is still standing. This letter did not come from Godric's Hollow, though. Although I'm sure if we looked closely enough, we might be able to find the original. Your mother, the brilliant witch that she was, enchanted two pieces of parchment to read exactly the same. She had me place this copy in my vault in Gringotts, just in case something happened to the original letter in the house. The parchment was self-updating, so any changes she made to the original appeared on this version as well. Your mother always thought of everything." With this, Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder and let his words sink in.

But Harry still had one last question. "How was it that you were able to get into your vault? You're supposed to be in hiding!"

Remus took over at this point. "When Sirius first contacted me at the beginning of the summer, he mentioned needing something from his vault. Although he couldn't really stroll through Diagon Alley, there was nothing holding me back. All I needed was his key and a signed letter from Sirius granting me access. The goblins have their own laws, separate from the Ministry of Magic. Although Sirius spent all those years in Azkaban, he was never convicted by the Ministry of any crime. Therefore, under goblin law, he is still entitled to his vaults and remains the head of the House of Black. So I went and got the letter myself, and have been holding onto it until we had the chance to meet with you in person."

Remus chose that moment to lower himself onto the couch next to Harry. "Harry, that letter is not the only reason we needed to speak with you today. No one else knew about that letter except your mother, father, and Sirius. I didn't even know about it until Sirius mentioned it earlier this summer. However, there are several things that you _should _have known about before, things that are more common knowledge than you may think. Before you ask, no, I did not read that letter, so I do not know the details your mother discussed with you. But Sirius and I have noticed several…incongruities with your childhood and upbringing that led us to dig deeper."

"Harry," Sirius began, "as you know, I have been locked in Azkaban since the day after your parent's death until this past year when I escaped. During that time, I had zero contact with Remus or the outside world, really, with the exception of the rare newspaper tossed my way. I never, ever should have lost my mind the way that I did and gone after Peter; but foolishly, I believed that should anything happen to me, Alice would step in to help take care of you. I never realized what had happened to them until Remus filled me in. After my brief leave of absence, I met up with Remus and began piecing together the last 13 years or so. That's when we started asking questions."

At this point, Remus cut in. "Harry, how much, prior to that letter in your hands, did you know about your family?"

With both Sirius and Remus looking directly at him, Harry began to sweat. _'I guess I really didn't know much about my family.' _"Well," he began," I learned a lot of it from you, Prof…I mean, Remus. I had always been told that I looked like my dad, but that I had my mother's eyes. Besides that, I really didn't know much." Looking to the floor, Harry struggled with himself debating how in detail he should go. "I have a photo album with pictures of all of you from your years at Hogwarts and when I was a baby, but I never really learned more than that." Because he was so busy studying the laces of his trainers, Harry missed the loaded glances passed between Sirius and Remus.

"Harry," Sirius said slowly, almost hesitant, "do you mean to tell me that you know _nothing_ about your family's history?"

"Well, yeah I guess so. I knew you and Dad were aurors, and I knew that Mom had been head girl. And that Dad was on the Quidditch team, but that's about it."

Furious, Sirius stood and began pacing the room, ironically exactly in the same pattern Harry had earlier. "This is just bloody fantastic. I knew something like this had to have happened; it's the only thing that makes sense. Except that it is completely and entirely inexcusable!"

While Sirius continued ranting to himself, Harry turned to Remus for an explanation. "What should I have known? What is going on?"

"Harry, what Sirius is so upset about is the fact that you have been left entirely in the dark about your family – and it seems that it was intentional. I was confused last year when you would ask me about your parents. I always believed that you already knew the important things and were just seeking out the finer points of your parent's lives. If I had known…" Remus shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "You, Harry, are the last descendent of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, which makes you the head of the Potter family. And with that title, there are certain responsibilities and power associated with it. You should have been informed of all of this when you turned eleven. A formal letter is required to be sent to the heir, followed by a personal meeting with the goblins. Did you receive any such letter?"

Racking his brains, Harry thought back to all of the letters he had received just after his eleventh birthday – and all of the letters Uncle Vernon had burned or destroyed. "If the letter was sent here, I never received it," he responded. "What responsibilities are you talking about? What power?"

"Sirius, I think it would be best for you to explain. You know more about the Potter family history than I do," Remus conceded.

"Ok, listen up, pup. There's more involved with being the head of a family than just the name and wealth associated with it, especially when you are the head of a "Most" Noble and Ancient house, such as the Potter family. Do you know anything about the familial classifications in the wizarding world?" Harry shook his head. "Well, while some wizards or witches would like you to believe that it is as cut and dry as being 'pureblood' or not, such as the Malfoy's, that's not the case. But there are differences between differenct families. Some families are considered to be Noble and Ancient. Basically, it just means that those families have been around for a very long time. I think you would recognize most of those names from school, such as the Malfoy's, Diggory's, Weasely's, and my own family, the Black's. But there are some families that are even older than those, and those families are considered to be the Most Noble and Ancient houses. The Potter family falls into that category. There are only a few Most Noble and Ancient houses. When I was learning about the history, there were sixteen remaining Most Noble and Ancient houses left, but some could have died out since then. Blood purity means nothing in regards to whether a family is most noble and ancient or just noble and ancient, and you cannot change the status of a family. It simply is what it is, until it dies out."

"Ok," Harry said, stopping to think about everything Sirius had just thrown at him. "So, the Potters are considered to be a Most Noble and Ancient house. What does that actually mean?"

"Well, generally speaking, the Most Noble and Ancient families are typically quite a bit wealthier than the other families because they've been around for so long. The main difference is in the roles in the Wizengamot. Your family is given two familial seats, whereas Noble and Ancient houses only receive one. Alone, that might not seem to make much of a difference. But historically, the members of the Most Noble and Ancient houses have tended to vote together, which allowed for quite a bit of political sway. Also, it is not possible for a full Wizengamot trial to be held without at least three-fourths of the Most Noble and Ancient house members present. Same goes for the passing of a new law; if it requires a full Wizengamot hearing, then those people have to be there. It was a way to prevent the younger families from gaining too much power too quickly; after all, it was the most ancient houses that established the original Ministry of Magic in the first place."

After taking a deep breath, Sirius continued. "But all of that stuff applies to the fact that the Potter family is a Most Noble and Ancient house. And even though you should have known about all of this stuff before, it's nothing for you to worry about right now. What really concerns us is the stuff involving the Potter family itself. The Potter family is one of the wealthiest wizarding families in Britain; not the most, but it's definitely up there. I think the Greengrass family is just slightly above you. By wealth, I'm not simply talking about galleons. Investments, property, businesses…there's a lot spread out in the Potter name. Which is why being the head of the house is so time consuming, because ultimately the big decisions must be made by you or your proxy. And legally, at the age of eleven, you become responsible for those decisions or for electing your own proxy. Because, honestly, no one expects an eleven-year-old to be able to deal with all of that. Very few wizards officially take on the full responsibilities as head of the family before graduating from Hogwarts, but they still always know."

Harry knew that Sirius would never lie to him, but part of him still wanted to believe that this was just some huge prank that the two Marauders had made up. Because if it wasn't…well, that meant that someone somewhere had been keeping a huge secret from him. He was used to people keeping secrets from him; it had been that way his entire life. The Dursley's lying about his parent's death had just been the start of it. They kept him from the entire wizarding world, from his true heritage. No, this was just the latest to add to a long list of lies he had been fed. '_But this is the last. No more.'_

Standing up, Harry turned to face Sirius and Remus wearing the most serious expression either of them had ever seen on him. With his arms crossed over his chest, standing up to his full height, the two of them were instantly reminded of a young James Potter. "I want to know everything."

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: all characters from the original series belong exclusively to J.K. Rowling, I am merely playing with the storyline.<strong>


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